Quidditch House of Fandoms
by Speedy-the-quid-kid
Summary: A short story about my friends and I as we look for housing together. My friends and I are all into a lot of different fandoms, so it isn't limited to Harry Potter or LOTR, and has mostly references in any case. I should advise you that it becomes very violent rather quickly. Hopefully you find it both funny and horrifying. Sorry about the footnotes, they didn't quite translate.


Jason Grizzle

4/14/2014

The Quidditch House of Fandoms

As Alex pulled her keys from the ignition of her blue van, we hopped out. This was a tad bit more difficult than normal, as we had squeezed all eight of us into the vehicle. Beside us was a black Chevy Impala, and a well-dressed man leaned lazily against it with one hand in his pocket and one playing with a cell phone. He turned to us as we all gathered around him, and he slipped the phone into his pocket.

We greeted him with a hearty hello, and he shook each of our hands in turn. As he reached for my hand, I saw that he was wearing a fox pin on his green and gold striped tie, which added a splash of colour to his otherwise grey suit.

Once he had greeted us, he introduced himself. "My name is Mr. Lothky, I'm an agent from Webster Mentior Realtors. I'll show you around the house. It should accommodate all of you, several bedrooms and a good-sized basement. I spoke on the phone with Alex earlier. She said most of you are college students?"

"All of us except Alex and I," Eroica said. She waved her arm towards Sam, Caroline, Brooke, Evan, Sarah, and me and added "They're still in school over at Webster University. Alex and I just graduated."

"Congratulations! So why—excluding you two of course—did you decide to live off-campus?" Mr. Lothky asked.

I spoke first: "Several of us got wait listed and couldn't get on-campus housing in the first place. Because of that, I would have had to commute from half an hour away, but we had been talking about living together for a whole semester and decided that, if we could find somewhere close by, we might as well go for it. A six-minute drive will be much easier to deal with, and I'm really excited to live with some of my best friends. We're kind of a family," I said, bouncing a little with cheerfulness.

Alex smiled at me, slightly surprised to have heard me talk first. It didn't happen often; I'm quite shy. "We really are," Alex said. She pushed a loose strand of brown hair out of her eyes as she added: "We became friends because we all joined Quidditch, and now we spend all our time together. Eroica and I are the mothers1, and these are our Quid-kids! And they're absolutely wonderful! I'm so glad we became such close friends." She hugged Sam, disappearing for a moment in her long, curly brown hair.

Mr. Lothky smiled and chuckled lightly. I suddenly wondered why we told him all about us, but pushed the thought away as he said: "Is that so? Well, it would be my pleasure to see you all live together. I hope I can help you all find the right place! Come on, I'll show you inside and we can get started." He removed a set of keys from his pocket and walked up the stone path to the door. We all followed, and I saw my friends beaming. All of us were excited. In being waitlisted, we may have actually gotten lucky.

There was a click, and Mr. Lothky, grinning widely at us, held the door. We filed inside. As I stepped over the threshold, I felt almost immediately at home. I swiveled my head around, admiring the tan-yellow color of the walls and the deep brown, wooden archways. It felt almost as if I'd stepped into a Hobbit-hole. I stepped around Caroline just as she moved to push back her long brown hair and I gasped in pain as her elbow rammed into my cheek-bone.

She jerked around and exclaimed: "Oh my god, I'm sorry! Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine, it doesn't hurt too badly." For the sake of the reference, I mimicked Malfoy from a very potter musical. As I lifted my hand to my cheek repeatedly, I said: "Am I bleeding? I think I'm bleeding!" Which was actually accurate, as I was. Caroline still looked at me, worried that it did, in fact, hurt quite a lot. In an attempt to soothe her worrying, I said: "There's only a little blood. And, hey, I've suffered way worse during Quidditch2." Caroline snorted knowingly. The cut still stung, but I forgot all about it as a phone went off behind me. I turned and saw that it was Mr. Lothky's phone, and when he pulled it out of his pocket the ringtone rang out more clearly: ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Sarah started doing a dance, and Evan started to sing along.

"Sorry, everyone, I'm gonna have to take this. Feel free to start looking around, I'll be back shortly." Mr. Lothky turned on his heal and walked out of the still open door before shutting it behind him. I heard a muffled "Hello?" as he moved away.

I turned and widened my eyes at Caroline and Brooke. "You didn't happen to see his tie pin, did you? It's a fox. Remind you of anyone?"

Brooke said: "No way! You know, he even looks almost like Moriarty!"

"Either it's a coincidence, or he's a fan of Sherlock. I really hope he's the latter because he's going to love us!" Caroline said, making everyone laugh.

"Oh, come now. A coincidence? The universe is rarely so lazy," I quoted3, laughing too.

We wandered out of the entrance and into the hallway. I went into the first door on the right, which was a bathroom. It was a little small, as if the designer had attempted to fit everything into a large closet. However, despite being a bit cramped, it was nice. Like the entrance, it had a lacquered wooden floor that matched the archways. The sink's silver faucet caught my eye, and I bowed to examine it. The handles were carved into snakes, which, while odd, endeared me a little more to the house. I do love anything that can be turned into a Harry Potter reference.

As I walked out, I heard a dull thud down the hall. I investigated, and found Brooke staring outside the window into the back. "Something wrong?" I asked.

"Hmm? Oh, no, sorry, I just flinched a bit. I looked outside and saw a miniature statue. Take a look, right behind the garden, over—" Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced around. "Huh...I swear I saw a statue out there. Ooh, wait!" She took a sonic screwdriver from her pocket and pointed it outside, waving the buzzing toy toward the flowers. With a snap, she extended the spring loaded end and looked at it quizzically. "No trace of it, whatever it was," she said in an authoritative voice, "my eyes weren't what they were in my last regeneration—must be playing tricks on me!" We laughed, and I went back to surveying the house.

I decided to venture upstairs, joining Alex and Eroica in looking at the bedrooms. There were only four, but we'd managed to get more than eight people into a single bedroom fairly easily; we'd have no trouble fitting everyone comfortably here. The master bedroom had a canopy bed and had more furnishing than the others. Then, we heard a familiar knocking—bum bum ba dum bum—from the room across the hall.

"How much do you want to bet that that's Sam?" Alex said. "She's probably seen Frozen more times than any of us."

"Hmm, 50 quid. Only for the Sherlock reference, though. I don't actually have any quid," I said.

We walked across the floor, which creaked softly under our weight. "Do You Wanna Build A Snowman" started playing when we reached the door, and I figured Sam was playing it from her phone. Alex opened the door, and, despite our prediction, Sam was not in the room. Instead was a little girl who looked out of place. Her edges were fuzzy, and her coloration too vibrant. She had a cartoony look about her, and an eerie lighting thanks to a small T.V. behind her, giving off the only light in the room.

"Who are you?" Eroica asked, cautiously, peering over Alex's shoulder.

"My name is Anna!" said the little girl cheerfully. In an instant she changed; her eyes were on fire, and the shadows lengthened in the room. Vibrant, blue hues from her dress turned black and red, and her hands balled into clawed fists. "Do You Wanna Build a Snowman" turned into "Do You Wanna Hide a Body." In a high pitched, childlike voice which only added to the sudden creepiness, she added: "And I am going to kill you!" She giggled, smiling as Alex positioned herself to protect Eroica and I.

Alex said: "_Fuck _that noise!" Hearing her say this familiar phrase (which, by the way, is not referring to a noise—it's just a phrase) bolstered my confidence. She continued: "I will not let y—" but that was all Alex got out before we heard a loud crack. I flinched, which was apparently lucky, because when I turned to look behind me I saw what looked suspiciously like a Frozen DVD sticking out of the master bedroom door. I turned back, relieved, but I felt my blood turn to ice as Eroica screamed, despair dripping from her voice. I gasped and my pulse quickened as I saw Alex's head slide onto the floor while her body fell forward into the room.

Eroica crumpled to the floor, sobbing, and she reached out for the body. I don't know how I managed to overcome my own emotions, but I did, and I threw myself into the door, closing it and preventing her from reaching Alex. It slammed shut and the music fell silent. I slid down the door and turned to face the weeping Eroica. I hugged her, though my mind felt completely numb, and I was soon crying as well. What the _literal_ _fuck_ just happened?

When I regained some control over myself, I lifted Eroica onto her feet. Her tears and shudders had not diminished at all, but I helped her stay standing. As I helped her down the stairs, a question pierced the hazy fog in my mind: where was everyone else?

Slowly, on guard and shaken, we came up to the kitchen door. I squeezed my eyes shut and reached for the handle with jerky movements. Eroica muffled her sobs into my shoulder and I put myself between her and the door as I turned the knob. I threw it open and jumped back, fearing the worst. I saw only the counter on the opposite wall, and a few cabinets hung open. I crept inside, Eroica still behind me but now quiet, perhaps in fear. I felt fear tug at my own mind as well, but it felt like it was at a distance. Still numbed. Not running as smoothly nor as quickly as normal.

I ducked into a crouch, pulling Eroica into the same position.

"LLLLLEEEEEERRRRRROOOOOOYYYYY JJJJJEEEEENNNNNKKKKIIIIIIIINNNNSSSSSSS!" A deafening scream pierced my ears as two figures ran toward us. Someone's shoulder rammed into my chest, forcing me to the ground, and a metallic crack forced its way into my ringing ears. The floor shook twice, and I heard a familiar voice cry: "Shit! Holy…SHIT!"

I opened my eyes, which had closed against the metallic crack, and saw Evan standing above me. Rather, I saw his afro-like hairdo, as my eyes were too watery to see details. I blinked away the tears as a frying pan drop from his hand. I looked to my left and saw Eroica, crumpled on the floor, still and silent. My mind, addled as it was, couldn't help but list a few frying pan-wielding character references. Samwise, Tiffany, Rapunzel.

Evan had his hands over his mouth, now making inhuman noises. To my right, I saw Sarah, her blonde hair now red with blood. She was on her knees, and the end of a broomstick, recently wielded as a weapon, gripped tightly by pale white hands drenched in blood pouring from her stomach. From what I could tell, she had somehow managed to skewer herself.

"Oh…" she coughed. "Would you….you look at….that. I've…been impaled!" she cried sharply, tears springing to her eyes. "Sarah…is hap—happy…to be with her friends…." She coughed once more, starting to fall to her side.

I lunged forward to catch her, Evan now leaning against a counter and retching violently. "Shhhh, it's going to be ok! You're going to be fine, I promise!" I stared into her eyes, trying to convince myself as much as her, but to no avail. She shuddered, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Through tears, I heard Evan croak tightly: "I've got to get out of here, this place is fucked up man! Jesus Christ, this place is going to kill us all!" He ran to the kitchen door and towards the entrance. I sprang up and followed, trying to catch him.

"We have to stick together!" I said. "And I don't think it's likely that this place _wants _us to leave! Evan, stop!" Evan ran out the front door, shouting obscenities. I don't think I'd ever heard him swear before. I followed him, hoping that it might just be safer outside than in.

He sprinted forward, leaping over the plants in front of the stone path. He was putting on quite a turn of speed—but then that was ended only a few yards later. He made it into the street and found himself trying to occupy the same space as a grey, luxury car. Unfortunately for him, the speeding car won. I heard the driver screech "Welcome to Webster!"4

Before I had time to cry out, a cellphone dropped onto the porch in front of me. It stayed intact, somehow, and I picked it up. I started to read the words on the screen, but was interrupted.

"This is my note! That's what people do isn't it? Leave notes! I don't intend to die because of some crazy shit from this house! I'd prefer to do it myself! No mind games, less terror. It's the easiest way out, and I get to control my own fate." Caroline shouted from above. I didn't have time to call out to her, to tell her not to jump, before she did precisely that. She landed with a crash against the side of the house, and was still.

From inside the house, I heard another familiar voice say: "That was right on my bins…" I walked inside, wondering once again what the hell was going on. References spewed from our mouths on a normal basis, but they had always been _funny. _And now they were just sad. The part of my mind still able to function finally had a moment to consider the ridiculousness of my friends' deaths. We had always joked that we would part this world with a reference or two, but, my god, my friends were actually dying with references on their lips. Nausea threatened my stomach, and I did what I could to stop thinking about it.

I nearly turned to go inside, but suddenly I saw something in the garden and instinctively blinked. Suddenly there was more than one _thing _in the garden. I blinked again before my Whovian instincts could stop me, and suddenly there was a small _army _of _miniature weeping angels! _Without turning, and now without blinking, I fumbled my way back towards the door. It was definitely _not _safer outside. I shut the door, keeping my eyes on the creatures until the last possible second. The door splintered, but the angels did not come inside. A part of me thought that they did not _dare _to come inside, because worse things lurked here.

At best, there were only three of us left. Sam, Brooke, me. And hopefully Brooke had the sense not to go investigating the statue she had seen earlier. I turned to find the speaker, fairly sure it was Sam. I was now expecting death at every turn, and found myself almost calmly accepting the possibility, the _likelihood, _of my death. The atmosphere in the entrance had changed considerably compared to earlier that day. The peaceful Hobbit-hole atmosphere was now had a horrific, stuffy feeling. In the living room, I found Sam staring outside the window sadly. She looked up at me, and blinked. "Anyone left?" Her usual chipperness had diminished, replaced instead with despair.

"Us, and possibly Brooke. I haven't seen her in a while. I wouldn't count on it at this point." Hell, despair had crept into my voice, too.

She nodded. "Well, this sucks."

"Huge understatement, that. Well, what do we do now? Anywhere we go, it seems something will kill us. I don't have any hope, really, that we will make it out alive," I said.

"There is always hope," Sam quoted.

_No…there is _no_ hope…this house does not suffer the living to pass… _A fell voice sounded, seeming to bypass our ears and go straight into our heads.

"I'm going to ignore the fact that the house followed your lead and quoted the Lord of the Rings," I said.

"Me too," she stated, "though I will say…did that sound familiar to you? Just…the sound of that voice?"

"It's…it's almost as though it was the voice in my head…" I perked my head up. "Almost as though I was reading! Ah, the basilisk in Harry Potter! It sounds exactly like what I imagined it would!" My eyes widened. "And you know what? The first thing I discovered about this house was the snake-handles on the bathroom faucet!" I shook my head, swinging my ear out from under my glasses. "If we are going to die, let's at least go out via the fandom that started it all, for us. Maybe Hogwarts really will be there to welcome us home, maybe it will bring us to safety.

She nodded, excitement momentarily lighting up her weary face. "Maybe if we face our fears, instead of running from them, we'll live. Maybe the house will let us go!" said Sam, ever the brave5 Gryffindor. I doubted this, as I had seen Alex (a hufflepuff, no less) defend us with her life. We walked through the hall and to the bathroom door. "Do you suppose it's a problem that we don't know Parseltongue?" I asked.

"We heard the voice, didn't we? Assuming it was speaking the same language, we ought to know it, I guess, or be able to figure it out. And you call yourself a Ravenclaw," she intoned with a hint of sarcasm.

"Actually I call myself a Ravenpuff, thank you very much," I said proudly. "Though I've possibly become more of a Hufflepuff than a Ravenclaw now that I have such good frien—" I choked up, and couldn't finish my sentence.

Sam offered a hug, and for a moment we let our tears flow. But only for a moment, for we were still in danger.

We each glared down at the faucet. Sam was the first to speak, and said "_Open!"_ It sounded funny again, just as the other voice. And then the floor caved in, and we fell into the darkness.

We landed on something oddly furry. Very quickly, we found ourselves astride something that was not only furry, but very, _very_ angry. We were shaken off, and found ourselves in front of a three headed dog. More rapidly than I could comprehend, Hermione—err, Sam, was whistling the tune of Hedwig's theme. I sat confused momentarily, and joined in as soon as my mind figured it out.6 Fluffy! The great dog's growling ceased and its jowls stopped quivering, and it laid its weary head to rest.7

I looked at Sam and smiled. This was, it seemed, the only thing that had gone right so far today. But of course, that must have jinxed it, because the floor collapsed beneath us once more. My last thought before unconsciousness was of Bilbo and the dwarves laying on the Goblins' front porch.

I woke up, my clothes soaked. I found myself laying in water, and noticed that my glasses were right beside me. "My glasses, my glasses…I can't see without my glasses!" I quoted Scooby Doo, for the first time in forever.8 I smiled.

A weak laugh came from my right. I put on my glasses and lifted myself onto my knees. I gasped, and saw a fang protruding from Sam's arm. "I wondered when you would wake up," she said weakly, "I think you must have landed on your head."

"Sam! What happ—." I stopped midsentence, and saw that behind Sam was not a wall, but a corpse! A massive snake, the basilisk, and out of its side protruded a sword.

"A phoenix showed up, wouldn't you know, at just the right moment. Had the sorting hat. Got Godric's sword! Then I killed the freakin' thing. Hurt, though. Ah, well... I didn't have much hope, anyway." She smiled sadly.

My mind jumped instantly to the phoenix. As I wondered where it had gone, I heard a cry from above. A fiery bird soared downward in lazy spirals, at last perching upon the ground next to my injured friend.

"Phoenix tears…Sam, I think you're going to be ok!" I laughed in relief.

Alas, I was once again mistaken. It did not cry upon her wound, but rather pecked out her eyes as she screamed, and its talons ripped into her neck. I felt the numbness return and I jumped up and ran from the cavern, splashing through the water to a door.

I opened it and sprinted inside, closing it and silencing the bird's screech. I turned and saw a mirror at the other end of the room. Ah. Of course. The mirror or Erised. Do I dare hope that it could be my way out? _Yes._ There must be hope. I must survive. I walked towards it, and looked into it. For a moment, I saw only my reflection. And then I saw my friends. Each and every one of them stood in the reflection with me, alive, laughing. I cried out in joy, but my exhausted, pale visage reminded me that it was but an illusion.

A soft cough came from the stairs behind me. I turned, and in the corner I saw someone very old. A sonic screwdriver lay on the stone next to her. Brooke. She looked frail, and nearly dead, as if…she had in fact seen—and been touched by—the weeping angels. She was sent back in time, was sent down here, to wait for a lifetime.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," I uttered, cursing myself for referencing these damn fandoms once again. I heard her mutter something, but I couldn't hear and moved closer. I knelt beside her. "Is there anything I can do? Do you know if there's a way out, a way I can get help? Or can you walk?"

"Oh, Speedy. Oh, Jason," she said.

"Please, don't make the reference I think you're going to make," I said, suddenly annoyed.9

"Not that reference, you…" she coughed. "You poor thing. Only, come closer." I leaned forward. "Sorry, Speedy, but…" Her eyes wandered to a point behind me. "The Witch King of Angmar sends his regards." With horror, I leap backwards, fearing that she had a knife. I don't want to go like this. Not the Red Wedding.

But unfortunately for me, I sprang directly onto the outstretched blade of the King of the Nazgul. As I slid onto the floor, Brooke was still. Why, I thought. Why did this happen?

Outside of the grim house, the House of Fandoms and suffering10, Mr. Lothky stepped up to his car. Alex's blue van had disappeared mysteriously. The façade of the house disappeared, and in its place was a desolate field. Mr. Lothky smirked, and suddenly, he was not Mr. Lothky. Nor, in fact, was he Moriarty, as the Jason had sarcastically guessed. "Mr. Lothky" had inferred that the boy would make the wild guess because of the ringtone and the tie pin, drawing attention away from the _colour _of his tie. For, while the whole thing had been entirely unnecessary, Loki, Deceiver of the Gods, basically just wanted to fuck with people. In a flash, the bland grey suit was gone, replaced by vibrant green leather and glimmering gold armor, complete with a horned helmet. The Impala was gone, and was replaced with a grey, eight legged horse.

Loki mounted the magnificent beast, and rode faster than any mortal horse could dare imagine. He stopped, however, only a few miles ahead as a bolt of lightning crashed down onto the street. In the crater, a bulky, muscled figure crouched, holding a short-handled hammer. Loki dismounted.

The figure, Thor, Thunder God, Protector of Mankind, spoke unto Loki: "Loki, you little shit!" He looked shocked at himself.

"Ah, dear _brother._ It seems you have not yet mastered your grasp of a _higher _language here. It's changed quite a bit since the last Ragnarok, and you've only been here, what, a few hours? You will learn, in time, Oh Mighty One, you just have to spend some time around people," Loki laughed, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"The fuck do you think you're doing, killing innocent people? In case you forgot, I am Protector of Mankind, and I won't let you do shit like this," Thor said angrily.

"But, dear brother, you should be thanking me! I mean sure, I killed a few humans, but hey, I got rid of Jörmungand! Unfortunately, they left Fenrir alive, but that's one thing gone. I do believe that greatly increases your chances of surviving the next Ragnarok, brother," said Loki. "And I'm sure I can find a few humans competent enough to kill Fenrir too, instead of just putting him to sleep."

Thor was still angry, and began walking toward Loki. Loki said: "I want to make up for…well, bringing about the end of the world last time 'round. Surely you can forgive me for taking care of a few vermin?" Thor gripped his hammer more tightly and moved toward Loki, who sauntered several feet in the opposite direction before shapeshifting into a hawk and flew quickly away.

Thor chased after him, riding on Sleipnir, for despite the great service he had just done the gods of Asgard, Loki was still a treacherous, annoying little shit.

1

We created a rather complicated family tree, in which everyone in the Quidditch Club is impossibly related. They are not, of course, our real mothers, but they care for us as if they were.

2

_Way _worse.

3

90% of what my friends and I say, even in normal conversation, tend to be quotes and references. It makes things interesting.

4

Not a reference to a fandom, but to an inside joke commenting on how often we Webster students jaywalk.

5

If we made it through this, I might have to start calling her Samwise the Brave. It occurs to me now how similar our situation was to Sam and Frodo's. We had little hope, but wanted very much to go home. Back to the Shire for them, off to Hogwarts for us.

6

I felt nostalgia at the thought of the two of us, guarding and whistling outside of a Quidditch Club Exec Board meeting after the club's first event our freshmen year.

7

Hey, a Supernatural reference.

8

Oh, look, I made a frozen reference, too.

9

Oh, Jason, if only someone loved you.

10

Which, coincidentally, are basically the same thing.


End file.
